Their host finished his story.

Suddenly there was a siren, screeching tires and a scuffling from the street outside. Carly and the two men fell silent as a loudspeaker blared, "Drop your weapon and lie down on the sidewalk! Arms extended and hands open!"

"Oh, shit," came a man's voice. "It's just a radio!" he pleaded. "Look, I–"

There was a single gunshot and a second later someone in the darkened room started moving quickly. They heard two doors open and slam closed in quick succession.

"Damn young fool," their host muttered. "Guns don't solve anything. The entire history of–"

"Guns solve everything," the tall man rumbled in a loud whisper, and the rest of his comment was drowned out by a sudden burst of gunfire from outside. The tall man tried to complete his thought a couple of more times, but each time he was drowned out by more shooting. He finally gave up and Carly thought she felt him chuckle. She was still trying to absorb the fact that there had been a fourth person in the room with them. She wondered if there were any more.

The tall man went totally still as the din outside finally died down. She felt him lean forward. "Who was that, old man?" he demanded in a low voice. "The person who ran out of here."

Their host sighed. "That's a long story," he said wearily. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, whoever he was, he's dead now, or arrested. So, will those cops come back here? To see if he was alone here or not?"

"An interesting question," their host said. "Why, you have some pressing reason you want to live a bit longer?"

"Hell, yes."

"Then be quiet and listen."

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